


How

by Nina36



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-27
Updated: 2012-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-02 14:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nina36/pseuds/Nina36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years ago I wouldn’t have gotten closer to this subject with a ten foot pole. Two years ago I would have pretended everything was okay and so would Dean. Because that’s how we ticked, that’s how bad guy screwed us over: we love each other so much that we kept secrets. We  were younger…we did not know so many things that are so clear, now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How

Disclaimer: all things Supernatural belong to Kripke. Dean and Sam belong to each other. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

“Dude…either you talk or you stop staring at me!” Dean’s voice is even gruffer than usual, but it doesn’t really faze me.

Apparently our suspension of disbelief’s tolerance has gone up various notches: we end up in bizarro worlds where our lives are tv shows and the guy who plays my brother was a soap star and I’m married to Ruby. An angel decides to unsink a ship And our friendly angel, Castiel, is in love with Dean.

 

It doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. Scratch that: it definitely doesn’t come as a surprise. Two years ago I wouldn’t have gotten closer to this subject with a ten foot pole.

 

Two years ago I would have pretended everything was okay and so would Dean. Because that’s how we ticked, that’s how bad guy screwed us over: we love each other so much that we kept secrets. We  were younger…we did not know so many things that are so clear, now.

 

It’s not like we have talked about this, but we both have changed. No more secrets. We actually talk about stuff, now. “Sam…” Dean tries again.

 

I’m still staring at him. It’s not like I don’t do that, usually. Sometimes it’s the only thing I do. I’m man enough to admit it. At least to myself. But I need answers now, that’s why I’m staring at Dean.

 

I need to know…and he needs to tell me. “Dean…” I say. Dean gets up from his bed shaking his head and goes to the minifridge in the corner, and when I tilt my head up I see the bottle of beer he’s offering. I smile nodding at him. I let him buy time and maybe I need some myself. Awkward conversations are something relatively new for us.

 

Truth is we suck at those things, but we are trying. We are trying to make things work, maybe because we feel this is our last shot… Or maybe we’re getting far too old for denial and stupidity.

“So…spill, Sammy.” Dean says, sitting next to me on the bed.

_bad…this is bad…_

 

I ignore the voice in my head and look at Dean. Damn, this is harder than I thought. But since this elephant has been crowding the room ever since Balthazar left, we’d better talk. “So…Castiel?” I say. And yeah, I can be subtle and smooth.

Dean seems to think so, because he raises his eyebrows at me, and shakes his head. “You heard what Balthazar said…” I start.

 

“I was there, Sammy…I know what he said” Dean interrupts me, curtly. And…? He was there …and?

It’s not like I have any right to pry into Dean’s private life…except that I do. Whether we like it or not, there is something between us. We stopped trying to make sense of it, we stopped thinking about right or wrong, with the kind of lives we lead…and the places we have seen it’s kind of a moot point. This thing has no name. There isn’t a label, but it’s there…and sometimes it’s the only things that makes us go on, that makes us keep fighting. To hear Balthazar utter those words was strange. It stung.

And it shouldn’t, not really. Dean lets out a sigh. “Sam…” He starts, “it’s complicated.” I blink.

I didn’t expect those words from Dean. I didn’t expect this tone of voice: one of defeat, almost. I didn’t expect my heart to start drumming in my chest. But the new rule is: no more secrets, and whatever Dean tells me, it won’t change a thing for me. I can…be his brother, if I need to, and just that.

I can be his best friend. I can be everything as long as we’re together.

 

“Use simple words if necessary,” I say, “tell me as if I was five” I hate the tone of my voice, it sounds angry, bitchy. But I’m not…I’m not angry, I’m slowly becoming too numb to feel pretty much anything.

 

“I am not blind, Sammy.” Dean says slowly. I turn my head, and for a moment I need _not_ to look at him. I need to prepare myself. I can be everything…everything he needs, everything we both need…but I need time.

 

_Dean and I do share a more profound bond._

 

Castiel’s voice fills my head, out of nowhere. It’s a memory…but it’s empty. It’s just a voice, Castiel, stating an obvious and, in this moment, painful truth. Of all the moments to have a flashback, my wall decided that this is a good one? Great! “I…” Dean starts, but he shakes his head and takes his time, getting up from the bed, pacing the room in slow, measured paces, drinking with painstakingly slowness from his bottle.

I force myself not to look at him, while my body, my blood…everything I am wants to show him with whom he has a deeper bond. I drink, instead, gripping the glass of the bottle so tight that I’m surprised it’s not shattering in my hands. I wait for Dean to collect his thoughts, to find the right words, whatever they might be.

 

“Ruby once told me that hell made humans demons.” Dean says suddenly. I look at him and  Dean shrugs, “before Lilith…before everything…” I nod. Before I fucked Ruby, before I drank her blood, before hell.

“It’s true…you know? Hell makes you forget…I was starting to forget” Dean says, and his voice is hoarse.

 

_I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing…_

 

He shakes his head and whispers, “not you, though. It didn’t matter how much he tried to…even when I went off the rack, I couldn’t forget you”

 

For a moment I just look at him, for a moment I can’t feel the glass of the bottle in my hands…or even my heart, beating. I can only hear Dean’s words. I swallow, not trusting my voice…and I nod, urging him to go on, to talk.

 

“Castiel…he was the one who got me out of there. I don’t remember that. Of all the things I remember from hell…this one memory is gone. Vanished.” He licks his lips, “he…gripped me tight and brought me back to life. But you are why I’m not a demon, Sammy.”

 

“I’m the reason you went there in the first place!” I say. And I almost don’t hear the glass of the bottle shattering against the wall. Almost.

 

Dean hears it, and starts, looking at me, surprised. “What…” “You…died because of me!” I say.

 

It’s the first time I say that, and even now, after so much time, it still hurts. And the thing that hurts more is that Dean shakes his head and I know he doesn’t agree. He doesn’t care.

 

 _I couldn’t live you with you dead_.

 

Dean sighs, “Sammy…that’s not the point. And dude, really? That was our last beer!”

 

I look at him, and my incredulity must be clear because Dean shakes his head and chuckles, “Castiel…is a friend. A good friend. If things had been different, maybe…who knows. But don’t…”

 

Dean grits his teeth and in a moment, he covers the distance between us, from his place near the wall, to the bed. His hands are strong on my shoulders, gripping me, tightly. “ _How_ …how can I be _in love_   with someone, anyone…how…if I couldn’t get rid of you in hell?” He crouches in front of me, and his hold on my shoulders becomes almost painful, he’s digging his fingers, clutching at the fabric of my shirt, as he looks at me.

 

And fuck…his eyes… it’s my first recollection: Dean’s eyes… It’s the last thing I saw, before falling into the cage: my brother’s eyes…the love in them, the trust, the desperation.

 

“How…?” He asks again.

 

My hands move without any input from my brain, they cradle Dean’s face, and I remember a night of years ago…a drunken night, where I needed Dean so badly that I could almost taste it. I needed him to save me, in every way. I needed his skin, his love… And God helps me, I still do. And so does he.

 

We move, as one - and it isn’t really surprising…it’s us, we’ve always moved as one - and our bodies are closer and we’ll probably wonder, one day, who starts the kiss…one day, maybe, but sure as hell, not now…not while Dean’s lips are parting, and somehow I’ve ended up on the floor, next to him, while still cradling his head in my hands. And it’s fire…flowing through my veins and his…it’s consuming us and yet, we’re both smiling, between kisses.

 

Dean’s lips are soft and he seems to know exactly how to tease me, how to kiss me… We could say words, now. Chick flicks words, about love…but we don’t really need them. Not now. One day, maybe, we’ll wonder about many things: why we have waited so long, why we have hurt each other so much…why God should give a crap about us being brothers and being in love with each other.

 

One day, maybe…but not tonight.


End file.
